Cap'n Ramona Diego
by Xernes
Summary: Franklin had a favorite slot machine in Biloxi, and when he says he wants his turn playing on it, he means it.


**Disclaimer: **Franklin belongs to Charlaine Harris. The universe I wrote him in belongs to Alan Ball.

**A/N: **I have been wanting to write more with Franklin. Like, really bad. Everything that played out between Franklin and Tara really turned me off to the pairing for a bit; however, I have been wanting to write the scene when Franklin was at the slots in Biloxi ever since it was mentioned, so here it is. I did not want to write about how elderly women got slaughtered by Franklin, so I ended this right before that took place. Enjoy.

**Cap'n Ramona Diego**

All his life, he enjoyed doing two things: gambling and killing, just as every vampire did, deep down.

He just chose to not to keep it a secret, and why should he? All that effort to hide what he truly was seemed like a huge waste of time, and if he was to be honest, not nearly as fun as keeping it out in the open.

Franklin was becoming somewhat of a regular at the casino in Biloxi. He was there nearly every night, and when a cute little waitress came round to offer him a bottle of Tru Blood, he'd always respond, "I'd much rather enjoy _your _blood, if you don't mind."

Eventually, waitresses stopped approaching Franklin.

He'd come to the casino with a huge wad of cash. People would sometimes ask him how he was so rich, and if he had all that money, why not buy himself some nicer cowboy boots—ones that weren't actually peeling away from the soles. "Because there's blood worked into the leather of these boots," Franklin would respond. "And because I like them." Sometimes he'd even take a boot off and lick it, just to see how the silly humans would react.

But most of the time, he tried to behave himself. He'd put on the act that he was a reasonable, responsible vampire who didn't enjoy having sex humans and then killing them. You know, one of those ridiculous mainstreamers. It was all so that his boss, Russell Edgington, wouldn't come down on him like a ton of bricks for the millionth time, or threaten to ram a stake through his chest for being too sloppy.

Tonight, he hoped, would be just like any other night. Maybe he'd even make a few hundred dollars. As he strolled through the casino, he contemplated what games he ought to play tonight. Not poker; things got a little too heated at the tables, and his fangs often ran out. Blackjack was in the same boat as poker, regrettably, because he actually enjoyed the challenge of getting a perfect twenty-one. He thought Roulette was terribly boring, probably because it swallowed up all of his money. "Slots tonight," he finally said to himself, sighing.

Franklin enjoyed the slots, but they tended to be a bit repetitive for his tastes. He never played longer than thirty minutes. He had a favorite game—the one with the cartoon pirates on the front called "Give Me That Booty." The name made him chuckle to himself every time. Franklin also had a lucky machine that he always sat at; it was the third machine in from the end of the row, and he once won over five hundred dollars on it. He named the machine "Cap'n Ramona Diego" just for the hell of it.

A group of elderly women were circled around Cap'n Ramona Diego as if she were giving out free senior benefits to the local buffet. They all had on tacky plastic visors and t-shirts that read: "Amazing Grace Baptist Church—Women's Bible Study." Each of the five women had fine, silver hair and looked to be in the ballpark of about eighty-years-old.

"Play again, Gertrude!" one of the women cried out in a raspy voice as she pushed her reading classes back up the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe you'll win something this round!" another called out, her face so close to the screen of the game that she could lick it if she wanted to. Another woman laughed so hard she coughed, and then regained her composure enough to say, "I wouldn't bet on it, Claire!"

Franklin immediately wanted to kill them for being such an annoying group of old women. Why weren't they at home with their husbands, or taking care of their grandbabies, or busy trying to die because Lord knows their time must be running out. Franklin breathed a heavy, unnecessary sigh, stuck out his pointer finger, and gently tapped the nearest woman three times on her shoulder, hoping that his touch wouldn't bruise her fragile skin. "Excuse me, miss?"

A woman with glasses so huge that it magnified her eyes to the size of silver dollars turned around. Franklin was pretty sure that her teeth weren't real; they looked far too white for a woman of her age. Her skin drooped and was wrinkled all over. "Yes, son?"

Franklin _hated _when humans called him son. For one thing, he was older than any human who ever called him that, and for two, it was just plain annoying. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was just wondering how long your friend is going to be on the machine."

The elderly woman, whose name was Edith, looked at him nonplussed. "Son, why don't you go to another machine?" she asked, motioning to all of the other open games around them. "There's plenty that aren't taken."

"Because I want _this one_," he answered sharply, pointing toward Cap'n Ramona Diego. "It's my lucky machine."

Edith stared at him long and hard through her crazy glasses, and then tightened her jaw. "How about you go find another lucky machine, son," she said before turning back around.

But Franklin's strong hand on her shoulder kept Edith from moving away too much. "All I want to know is how long your friend will be." Really, was it that difficult of a request?

After one big sigh, Edith finally said, "Give it another fifteen minutes. She's got a bit more cash to go through." Franklin nodded, and the woman turned around, leaning in close to her friend and whispered in her ear, "The nerve of people these days. I think that man is a little touched in the head."

He rolled his eyes. "I can hear you," Franklin announced, causing a couple of the women to turn around to look at him.

None of the women seemed all that concerned that he could.

Franklin waited and waited, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor impatiently until the fifteen minutes passed. When they finally did, he reached his finger out and tapped Edith on the shoulder again. This time when she turned around, she didn't have a huge smile on her wrinkly face so he could see her dentures. "What do you want this time, son?"

"Fifteen minutes passed," he said simply, pointing to his watch.

Edith raised her harshly penciled-in brows. "Well, Gertrude is not done yet," she responded, sounding more than a little frustrated. "Just wait your turn."

"I did wait," Franklin protested, forcing his fangs to stay away. "You said fifteen minutes, and it's been fifteen minutes; sixteen now, even." He wiggled his way past a few of the women until he was standing next to Cap'n Ramona Diego. "It's my turn now," Franklin said to Gertrude, who didn't even seem to realize that he was there.

"Well, we're not done yet," Claire argued, and he noticed that she was clutching a Bible to her bosom. Franklin almost laughed; who in their right mind takes a Bible to a casino?

Another woman whirled around and said, "Boy, did your mama ever teach you to _respect _your elders?"

"No," Franklin said, as he remembered his maker. "But she taught me how to how to kill them."

-_fin_


End file.
